


are you holding your breath again?

by kirstenlauren



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bartender!Bellamy, Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Lots of alcohol, Mentioned suicide, Slow Burn, Teacher!Clarke, also raven and clarke are best friends, and co-workers, and octavia is clarke's student, detailed self-harm of minor character, jasper and monty and miller and bellamy are childhood bffs, lots of comfort!!, lots of crying too probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-11 22:09:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4454213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirstenlauren/pseuds/kirstenlauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke teaches anatomy at a poverty-stricken high school. After an emotional and terrifying encounter involving a student, she releases her stress at a local bar where she meets a bartender named Bellamy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. night, break in two

**Author's Note:**

> Title and chapter titles are from Breathe by Rhodes.

“Ms. Griffin? There’s blood in the girls’ bathroom.”

It was Clarke’s lunch period. She held a pen halfway to a paper on the integumentary system she was grading. One of her students, a brunette girl who always, always was the first to raise her hand during class, was standing before her desk with a panicked look on her face.

“Blood?” Clarke dropped her pen and stood up, her chair creaking loudly behind her. She walked to the door and peered through the small window quickly, noticing a crowd of students surrounding the entrance of the girls’ bathroom across the hall.

“Back to lunch, guys, back to lunch!” Clarke yelled, running towards the group of students. She made motioning movements with her arms towards the cafeteria, trying to disperse the crowd. “Now!”

She opened the door to the bathroom and peered inside. On the third stall nearest to the door, she could see a pair of pink converse high tops peeking from under the stall door, followed by a steady stream of blood.

“Oh god,” Clarke gasped as she ran and grabbed the handle of the stall. It was locked. She ducked down underneath the door, not caring that she was getting blood on the knees of her dress slacks. A girl, a girl she’d seen around school but never had her as a student, was lying against the toilet. Her eyes seemed unfocused and tears were dripping down onto her shirt. As Clarke’s heart plummeted into her stomach, she saw the girl’s left wrist, slashed thrice. Beside her laid a knife, gleaming with blood.

“Oh god, oh god.” Acting on her instincts, Clarke ripped off her blouse and wrapped it around the girl’s wrist, tying it in a knot. “You’re going to be alright. You’re going to be fine.” The girl didn’t seem to hear her. Her eyes were fluttering in and out of focus.

She reached up and unlocked the stall door, which creaked open. In a fluid movement, she picked the girl up and cradled her in her arms, just as she would an infant, surprised of her own strength. Standing up and turning around, she saw the student from her classroom standing by the door, the look on her face was of utter terror. “Leila, run to the office and have Mrs. Turner call 911. Quickly, please!” She said to her.

Clarke was topless, with only a bra on. But she didn’t care. Leila nodded and sprinted out the door.

Before the door banged shut after her, a brunette woman came running through it. “Clarke! There’s a crowd of students—Oh my god.”

“Raven! Press this against her wrist, okay?” Clarke said to her co-worker, laying the girl on the ground. “She’s losing a lot of blood.”

Raven rushed forward and held Clarke’s blouse against the girl’s cuts. “Oh god. Adriana. She was just in my class an hour ago. Is she going to be okay?”

“I hope so. I had a student run to the office to call an ambulance,” Clarke said, her voice shaking. “I’m not qualified enough for this. We need a goddamn nurse.” She had her fingers on Adriana’s wrist, feeling her pulse. Her other hand was supporting her head.

Adriana’s heart was beating slower than normal. But it was beating. Thank god.

“Fucking budget cuts,” Raven cursed under her breath.

The door slammed open. Several of the office staff, including the principal, rushed in. ‘The ambulance will be here in five. Let’s bring her to the front,” Mrs. Turner, the office secretary said. Simon, the school’s head security guard, reached down and picked up Adriana, who’s eyes were now closed.

“I think she’s unconscious. Hurry, hurry,” Clarke whispered. Tears were pooling in her eyes, blurring her vision. In her head, she silently prayed to a God, any God.

“Clarke.” The principal rested her hand on her shoulder. “You did good. You may have saved her life.”

The tears fell freely now. “Mom, what’s happening? This is the second one this year...”

Three months ago, another student attempted suicide by overdosing on his mother’s depression pills. Andre was rushed to the hospital just in time. He hasn’t been back in school since.

“Something has to change here. We’re failing them…” Clarke watched as Simon carried Adriana out the door and down the hall with the rest of the staff following.

“Go home, Clarke.“ Abby squeezed her shoulder.  
  
▲▲▲  
  
She doesn’t even remember walking to her car. She doesn’t even remember pulling into the parking lot of the local bar (She hasn’t been here since her senior year of college). She doesn’t even remember how she got a new shirt on (Abby found a large t-shirt for her in the lost and found).

The next moment, she was throwing open the door of the bar, sitting down on the first stool she saw, and ordering a tequila shot. Her face felt sticky from crying.

She didn’t even look up at the bartender as she ordered. He silently filled a shot glass and slid it over.

“Rough day?” he asked as Clarke downed the tequila. “…or morning?” He glanced at the clock across the bar. It was barely one in the afternoon.

Clarke didn’t respond. Instead, she rested her chin against her hands and closed her eyes.

The bartender decided she didn’t want to be bothered. He began to move away towards the other side of the bar.

“Found a student with her wrists slit in a bathroom.” Clarke said. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He stopped suddenly, his eyes widening, probably at her brutal honesty. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

He poured her another shot.

“I’m never going to be able to erase that image from my mind,” she said, downing it. Her eyes were still closed.

“I haven’t been able to either,” he said quietly after a few silent moments.

Now Clarke opened her eyes.

“My mother. Committed suicide a few years back,” he said. He didn’t sound sad. He sounded almost bitter.

Clarke opened her mouth to speak but then closed it again.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to make this about me...” he said.

“No, no…” Clarke began. “I’m so sorry.”

He waved his hand, shrugging away her condolences.

They stared at each other for a moment.

“You look really familiar,” the bartender said, searching her face.

“Do I? Well, I’ve lived here my whole life. I teach at—“

“Arkwood High?”

“Yeah!”

“Mrs. Griffin, right? My sister is in your class. Octavia—“

“Octavia Blake! Oh, she’s a great student. A bit mischievous sometimes but she’s smart.” Then her face dropped. She looked down at her empty shot glass. “You’re very good at that.”

“Good at what?”

“Making me forget. Or it’s the alcohol.” She slid the glass over, motioning for a refill.

He gave her a small smile and refilled her glass.

“Oh, you’re my student’s brother. Please don’t tell her I was here,” she said, downing it. “I’m a teacher. We’ve got to maintain an image… We’ve got to teach these kids how to succeed, how to survive…” She trailed off, tears pooling in her eyes again. “We’re obviously not doing a very good job if kids are trying to end their lives left and right.”

“God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m a mess. I really should go home.” Clarke said, scrambling to stand up. She already felt drunk. Considering she can’t even remember the last time she drank, she wasn’t surprised.

“Woah, woah, careful. And will you quit apologizing?” he said, reaching over the counter to hold her up.

“There’s no way I can drive now.” Clarke slid her hands through her hair, frustrated. “Why am I such a goddamn lightweight?”

“I can take you home. No worries,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah… okay,” she said. She dug through her purse and threw a few dollar bills on the table. They turned out to be two twenties and a ten but she didn’t really care at the moment.

“Wait. You’re working. You can’t just leave…”

“Sure I can. I own the place,” he said with a smirk. He said it proudly, as if he were talking about his own child. “Bought this baby last year from the old folks who used to own it.”

He walked around the bar and slid the bills back over to her. “It’s on me,” he said.

“I couldn’t, I couldn’t,” Clarke shook her head.

“Yes you can. Plus, you can pay me by telling me all about how Octavia’s doing in class.” he said, smiling.

They walked to his car together, Clarke wobbling as she walked, simply allowing the alcohol to take control.

After confusing directions from Clarke, they were on their way.

The ride was silent. Clarke was staring out the window, focusing on the passing buildings and street signs. Focusing on anything. Focusing on anything else.

“I’m sure you’re doing the best you can,” the bartender said, breaking the silence.

Clarke looked over at him and smiled. “I’m sure I can do better,” she said.

“I haven’t even gotten your name, by the way,” she added.

“Bellamy. And yours, Mrs. Griffin?”

“It’s Clarke,” she said. “Thanks, Bellamy.”

“For the ride? It’s no problem.”

“Not just that. You have a knack for helping me forget. Even if it’s just for a few minutes,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” Bellamy said, looking over and smiling at her.

“Is this one it?” He asked after a few minutes of silence, motioning to the house he pulled up next to.

“Yeah,” She answered, gathering her purse. “Thank you, again.”

“You know where to find me if you want to forget again,” Bellamy said as Clarke opened the car door. He had such a softness in his face that Clarke was almost tempted to just stay in that car. “But if you want my opinion, I think the only way to get past it is to let yourself feel it. Let it in, Clarke.”

▲▲▲


	2. there's a light in the sky

Bang, bang, bang. “Clarke?” Another bang.

“Clarke!” Bang, bang.

A steady stream of blood. Bang, bang.

She was the ceiling. She was the air. She peered down at the scene below: she saw herself, with bloodied knees and no shirt on. She saw the unconscious girl, her head lolling against the toilet seat.

Bang, bang, and it all disappeared.

“Clarke! I know you’re there. Please open the door!” Raven Reyes’ voice was heard across the whole house, probably waking up the neighbors too. Or not? The sky outside her living room window told her it was dark outside with a tinge of sunlight, as if the sun had just set.

Clarke’s head was swimming as she sat up on the couch. She scrambled to find her cell phone, which was on the coffee table next to her. 9:00PM, it read. Confused, she tried to sort through what happened that day.

Shit. It all came rushing back. Adriana, the blood, the bar (fuck, did she really go to a bar at noon?), the tequila, the bartender, oh… the bartender. Her student’s brother… The ride home, passing out on the couch at four in the afternoon…

Bang, bang.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” She got up, rushing to the door.

“Finally! I’ve been knocking for ten minutes!” Raven said when Clarke unlocked and opened the door. She sized Clarke up from her rumpled hair to her oversized bright Green Lantern t-shirt.

“Sorry. I may have gotten a little drunk and passed out on the couch…” Clarke said, bringing her hands up to her hair and pulling it into a quick bun.

“Oh, babe…” Raven pulled Clarke into a hug. “Adriana’s okay. They say you saved her life. She would’ve lost too much blood if you hadn’t been there.”

Pulling away, Clarke stood aside to let Raven in. “And what? Drunk? Clarke, you haven’t touched alcohol since college. And we all know well alcohol treats you…”

“I know, I know. It was just a one-time thing. Don’t worry.” Clarke made her way into the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Considering it’s nine, I’ll pass,” Raven responded. “But you need it. Here, I’ll make it. Sit down, relax.”

“Thanks, Rave,” Clarke said. She let herself fall onto the couch as Raven busied herself in the kitchen.

“You have Octavia Blake, right?” Clarke asked.

“Yeah. I love that kid. So much potential. Why?” Raven asks, pouring water into the coffee maker’s reservoir.

“Her older brother was my bartender,” Clarke said. “Did you know that her mother committed suicide?”

“No, I didn’t,” Raven murmured. “Wouldn’t have even guessed; she’s a tough cookie… Man, these kids go through so much.”

“And it doesn’t help that our school is the most underfunded in the state. Most of these kids come from straight poverty,” she continued.

“How can we help them?” Clarke asked. This was the question that was haunting her.

“There’s not much we can do. We’re just teachers,” Raven responded. She made her way back into the living room as a steady trickle of coffee from the coffee maker was heard from the kitchen.

“With half the parents working three jobs to keep food on the table and the other half coked up on drugs, we’re all they have left,” Clarke said.

Sitting down next to her, Raven sighed. “I know.”

After a few moments of silence, Raven sprang up, going back to the kitchen and rummaging through Clarke’s cabinets to find a mug. “I’ve got dozens of papers to grade and I have to prep for tomorrow’s engineering club meeting. I just stopped by to see how you were,” Raven said, coming back with steaming mug of coffee.

“I’m so glad Adriana’s okay. Thanks for stopping by to let me know.” Clarke said, nodding. “And thanks for making me coffee.”

“It’s what I’m here for, babe. Will I see you at school tomorrow?”

Clarke nodded, giving her a small smile. “Of course.”

“And promise me no more trips to the bar, okay?” Raven said, eying Clarke pointedly as she walked her to the door.

▲▲▲

“I promised my best friend I wouldn’t come back here,” Clarke said, an hour later. “But here I am.” She made herself comfy on the barstool and clasped her hands together on the counter, looking up at the bartender who jumped at her sudden appearance.

“And here you are.” Bellamy said, giving her a sad smile.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Clarke said. “I’ll switch it up this time, though. How about a rum and coke?” Clarke had taken a cab here, originally planning on driving her car back home but the entrance to the bar just seemed so welcoming, as did the promise of alcohol.

Bellamy hesitated for a moment but gave in under Clarke’s pointed stare. He grabbed a glass and filled it up, sliding it over.

“Thank you,” Clarke said.

Bellamy went about taking orders on the other side of the bar and Clarke sipped her drink in silence.

Realizing she never really scoped the place out, she looked around. The room wasn’t large but it was large enough to fit a bar, a handful of scattered tables, and a small stage where a microphone stand was placed. When she came in hours earlier, the place was empty. Of course it was; it was noon. But now, the bar was half-full and three-fourths of the tables were filled. At the corner of the stage, two men were fiddling around with a machine. “This one!” one of them yelled. “No, no, no. This one.” the other said.

“Up for some karaoke?” Bellamy asked, now cleaning out dirty glasses.

“Karaoke?” Clarke laughed, sliding over her empty glass, motioning for a refill. “You know, you’ve really stepped this place up. Back in college, there wasn’t a karaoke machine here.”

Bellamy refilled her drink as Clarke watched the two men stumble to the center of the stage, obviously drunk. The iconic instrumental Clarke immediately recognized as Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On played through the speakers and several people in the tables began clapping.

“Every night in my dreams…” The men began singing together, terribly off-tune. Clarke couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey, Clarke. Can I ask you something?” Bellamy asked.

“Of course.” Clarke said, turning her attention back to him. She downed the rest of her drink.

“The thing is… I never went to college. I dropped out of high school when I was sixteen. I don’t know how to help Octavia with that kind of stuff…” He said, rubbing a hand through his hair. He looked almost embarrassed. “I just figured… you’re a teacher. So you probably know.”

“Of course I can help!” Clarke gave him a huge smile, the biggest smile he’d seen on her. She looked good with it. “You know what? You just gave me a great idea.”

“These kids… they feel like they’re never going to get anywhere. They’ve lost hope. I see it in their faces, in their eyes. I see it in their lack of enthusiasm towards almost everything.” Clarke said. “I can help them with college applications, college essays. I can help them with job and internship applications. Scholarships, financial aid… I can help them get their foot in the ground. How have I not thought of this before?”

“With hope for a better future… they won’t give up so quickly…” Clarke said, remembering Adriana and her unfocused eyes, remembering Andre’s empty seat.

“I wish I had someone like you around when I was young,” Bellamy said. “Nobody gave a shit. About me or Octavia.”

Clarke rested her hand on Bellamy’s. “Octavia’s lucky to have someone like you as a brother. She’s smart, healthy, and seems happy. You did good.”

Bellamy stared down at their hands for a second then slid his own out from under hers and cleared his throat. ‘Thanks. I’m trying my best,” he said, making his hands busy by organizing the liquor bottles behind him.

Either choosing to ignore Bellamy’s sudden discomfort or the alcohol doing that for her, Clarke brought her attention to the stage, where the two men were now finishing up Britney Spears’ Baby One More Time. She caught the eye of one of the singers, whose shaggy hair fell messily into his face as he pointed at her. “Hit me baby one more time!” He sang, winking.

Clarke burst into laughter and the crowd applauded as the two men bowed and made their way off the stage. The shaggy haired man made his way over to her with his friend following at his heel.

“Oh god. Watch out,” Bellamy said, now watching the men making their way over.

“Bell!” The man sat on the stool next to Clarke and leaned over to clap his hand on Bellamy’s shoulder. His friend sat next to him. “Saw you talking to this pretty lady. Liked my song?” He said, looking over to Clarke.

“This is Jasper and Monty,” Bellamy said to Clarke, rolling his eyes and giving her a don’t-mind-them look.

“I’m Clarke. And yeah, your songs were great,” Clarke said, laughing.

“Bell and us… We’ve been friends since diapers. Best friends. And we're roomies,” Jasper said, slurring his words. “And thanks, Clarke!” He added, looking seriously pleased.

“Hey Bellamy, you should bring this pretty lady tomorrow…” Jasper said.

“Jasper—“ Bellamy gave him a death glare.

“Tomorrow’s this guy’s birthday,” Jasper said, nudging Monty next to him. “We’re all gonna go have drinks—Fuck! I just realized. We sound like complete alcoholics. We’re not, really. Only on Karaoke Night and birthdays,” Jasper grinned. “Anyways, Clarke, you should come.”

“Why not?” Clarke said. Sober Clarke probably wouldn’t have agreed to hanging out with people she had just met but apparently Tipsy Clarke was down for anything.

“Oh, shit,” Clarke said, glancing at the clock on the wall. 1:34AM, it read. “I have to be up for work in a few hours,” she said, making her way to get up.

“Wait, wait. You can’t drive like that,” Bellamy said.

“Damn. I had a plan. I was supposed to be sober enough to drive home. Your distractions are just getting downright annoying at this point, Bellamy,” She said to him. Trying to feign anger, her smile gave her away.

“I can take you home—“ Bellamy began.

“No, no, no. Not again. I’ll call a cab,” Clarke said, pulling out her phone and dialing the number of the cab.

Bellamy opened his mouth to insist, but closed it again.

Next to Clarke, Jasper and Monty were deep in conversation about their plans for tomorrow. “Can we please have a piñata?” She heard Jasper say. Remembering that he had a bar to run, Bellamy made his way to the other side of the bar refilling and clearing drinks.

Clarke gathered her purse and left a few bills on the counter for her drinks, deciding not to interrupt Jasper and Monty’s excited conversation, and walked toward the door to catch her cab. She waved to Bellamy, who was busy with other customers. He waved back and watched as Clarke left. He even watched the door she just walked through for a few more seconds before shaking his head and turning back to his customers.

▲▲▲

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on Tumblr! thiojames.tumblr.com/ask


End file.
